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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845846">Pain Leaves Traces</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annide/pseuds/Annide'>Annide</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Recovery, Self-Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:20:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annide/pseuds/Annide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>TK is getting closer to Carlos, but there is still a part of himself he'd rather he didn't know about.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Owen Strand &amp; TK Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>249</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo: Hidden Scar (requested by anon on tumblr)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                “You know, TK, you don’t have to immediately put your pants back on. We’re just hanging here.”</p>
<p>                “I know, I just feel more comfortable like this.”</p>
<p>                What was he supposed to say? They still barely knew each other. Admitting to being an addict had been hard enough, but he hadn’t had a choice. After the ruined dinner and the arrest, he had to tell him something, give him a little piece of himself. At the time, he had already started to get attached to Carlos despite his desire to keep his distance. He didn’t want to risk losing him, if only so he would keep having someone to spend time with. After what had happened in New York, he wasn’t ready for something serious.</p>
<p>                Then again, he’d told him all about why he had gone to that bar and gotten into a fight. Carlos was smart, he had to know it wasn’t the first time he did something like this. But TK didn’t want him to learn more about his past and his issues. He already felt guilty enough dragging him into the mess that he was lately. He’d seen the look in his eyes several times now when he hurt him. When Carlos made him dinner, when they went to the juice bar.</p>
<p>                It felt like all he did was let the man down. The same way he kept letting his dad down. And himself. He hadn’t just promised Owen that he wouldn’t overdose again, he’d promised himself. He entirely deserved his dad’s tough love. And he was so glad that he had him by his side to help him stay on the right track. Because he wasn’t sure he could do it by himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>                TK was alone in the apartment again. His mom was out of town on business so he was staying with his dad. Who was on shift at the moment. He was bored. And not the ‘I don’t know what to do’ kind of bored. The much more worrying ‘I could do something but I don’t feel like doing anything’ kind of bored. The one that washed over you and wasted hours upon hours of time that could’ve served a more productive purpose. He lay on the couch, his music filling the room, wanting to do things, like watching TV, training, maybe even his homework. But he didn’t.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>                The more time passed, as he could see by the sun getting lower, the worse he felt about the fact he hadn’t moved in a while. He was vaguely aware that he should eat something at some point, but he didn’t have any appetite. He actually didn’t feel anything at all. He was numb. He had been in so much pain for so long and now there was nothing. Like his brain decided he couldn’t take it anymore and got rid of all of his emotions. All of the hurt from bullies, all the craving to be closer to his dad, all the worry that he’d lose him before he could really get to know him better.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>                There was at the same time too much and too little emotion inside of him. He wouldn’t even know how to explain it. He felt broken. He felt nothing. He felt nothing but the desire to feel something, anything. And that is how he ended up going through his father’s things to find a razor blade. He knew it would look suspicious if he suddenly stopped wearing short sleeves, he needed a more inconspicuous place to cut, so he decided his thigh would be good.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>                He was seventeen at the time, and he kept at it for a while. Then he found drugs. And, later, bar fights. He realised it was a much more efficient way for him to self harm. He didn’t have to hide blades, or do the hurting himself. Just find some guy and provoke him, something too easy to do. And then pain came. The bruises couldn’t be hidden, but he found he liked looking a little beat up. It was soothing to see the outside of his body reflect the way he felt inside. Eventually, he overdosed and ended up in the hospital, nearly died. His father was worried, threatened to take his job from him if he didn’t go to rehab. TK got cleaned and stopped hurting himself.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>                No one, not even Owen, ever knew about the cutting, until Alex. Because he saw the scars on his thigh. And it terrified TK to have him learn about that part of himself. Terrified him to show what he considered the weakest part of himself. Because even though he knew about his addiction, it was in the past, there was very little sign of it for him to see. Even bar fights never left a trace for very long. Scars were there forever, highlighting the mistakes of your past.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                It was pouring rain. Already they were all drenched from head to toe. The ground in the field was so slippery, they made very slow progress walking across it. It was too muddy to bring the truck, there was too high a risk for it to get stuck. So they carried all their equipment and went there on foot. Lightning had hit a tree which broke and fell, trapping a farmer under it. The paramedics were already there, trying to keep the man alive as water quickly accumulated around him.</p>
<p>                The man’s wife had thought they could help him without firefighters, but the tractor had gotten stuck in the mud on the way. It was a miracle the ambulance could make it. Because it was so wet, they decided that TK and Judd would stand higher up holding lines to help support Paul and Marjan while they stepped in the water to cut the tree. Mateo was taking care of the wife and Owen was looking out for more lightning, or anything else this storm could throw at them.</p>
<p>                It went pretty well. The man was free and they were setting him on a board for transport. That’s when TK slipped. Judd tried to grab his hand, but he couldn’t without following him down. Marjan pulled Paul out of the way just in time. Michelle was immediately at TK’s side when he finally stopped moving, not without an alarming scream of pain.</p>
<p>                “Captain Strand, do you think your team is good to carry our patient all the way to the truck to bring him to the hospital?”</p>
<p>                “I think we can do that, yes, why? What’s wrong with TK?”</p>
<p>                “He cut his leg pretty badly in the fall, we need to transport him first.”</p>
<p>                “But he’ll be alright? TK, how are you feeling?”</p>
<p>                “I’m fine, dad. It hurts like hell and there’s a lot of blood, but I’ll be okay.”</p>
<p>                “Alright, we’ll meet you at the hospital. Michelle, do you think you can stop for Carlos, he had to stay on the road by the trucks.”</p>
<p>                “Sure.”</p>
<p>                TK was grateful for the idea. It made him happy to see Carlos come into the ambulance even with the worried look on his face. Michelle cut through his pants so she could clean his injury and really stop the bleeding. She and Carlos both looked up at him when his thigh was exposed. They could see his cutting scars. TK realised what happened and his smile faded.</p>
<p>                “Is that why you’re always in such a hurry to put your pants back on?”</p>
<p>                TK let his head fall back on the gurney. He couldn’t face them. He couldn’t handle the look in Carlos’s eyes while having this conversation. He felt too vulnerable, too exposed.</p>
<p>                “Yes. I didn’t want you to see this. It was a long time ago, but I couldn’t let you know how broken I am. Even my dad doesn’t know about this. I didn’t want to scare you off.”</p>
<p>                Carlos cupped TK’s face and turned his head so he was looking at him.</p>
<p>                “I’m not going anywhere, TK. All those scars say to me is that you’re a fighter. That you’ve been through a lot, but you survived. You’re not broken, you’re strong.”</p>
<p>                TK met his eyes, tears filling his own. Carlos leaned down and kissed him. TK pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. This relationship was getting more serious than he’d ever wanted it to be, but he was starting to think he was fine with that.</p>
<p>                “Guys, I’m still here, you know, doing my job of making sure one of you doesn’t bleed out.”</p>
<p>                They laughed and Carlos sat back where he was before, still holding on to TK’s hand. Michelle was smiling. She liked seeing her friend happy. She was glad he’d found someone. By the time Owen made it to the hospital, his son was sleeping peacefully in Carlos’s arms. He stood by her and stared at the two of them, hopeful.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                It was driving him insane. The thought was invading his mind, pushing away everything else and there seemed to be nothing he could do about it. He instinctively rubbed his arm, where the faded scars were, and his thigh, where the much more visible ones lived as a constant reminder. He rubbed them as if trying to soothe those scars. As if he could feel those lines on his skin. He couldn't, of course, but they still consumed his thoughts.</p>
<p>                He didn't know what to do. I mean, sure, he knew several ways of dealing with those urges, but none seemed good at the moment. He was afraid that no matter what he did, someone might see him do it, or notice that energy about him and ask questions he didn’t want to answer.</p>
<p>                Still, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't stop thinking about it. About how much he wanted to cut. It had come out of nowhere. He was feeling down, sure. He was still settling here, he'd felt a little homesick, his dad was sick and he worried a lot about him. But nothing major had happened. Nothing that would usually make him want to hurt himself. He wasn't even feeling that numb like when he went to the bar for a fight. It completely took him aback, the urge to cut. He hadn't done so in years. But there it was, that familiar yet unsettling urge. And it seemed there to stay.</p>
<p>                He decided he'd better leave the bunk area. He didn't want his dad to notice him tossing and turning in bed and wondering what was going on, what was keeping him awake. He went to the kitchen and grabbed an ice cube from the freezer. He sat on the floor, his back leaning against the counter and rubbed the cold little square on his arm, watching as it melted against the warmth of his skin. The darkness felt comforting in a way. He felt safe here, alone, with barely any light at all to allow him to see water dripping from his arm onto the floor, and unfortunately a little on his sweatpants too.</p>
<p>                Other than the sounds of snoring, and surprisingly enough Buttercup was the loudest, the firehouse was completely quiet. TK liked that, especially in a moment like this when his mind was the complete opposite. It was a nice contrast. The calm of the place as everyone else slept versus the complete chaos going on inside of him. The ice was helping. There was something about the numbing sensation it created on his skin and how mesmerising it was to watch it disappear, slowly, until all that was left was water, that really helped soothe the urges. For a few minutes, he sat, breathing deep and slow, with something to focus on other than how much he wanted to add more scars to his body.</p>
<p>                At some point, once his arm had dried off, he had calmed down enough that he decided to go back to bed, give sleep another chance. The feeling was still there, but it was a lot more manageable now. Hopefully, it would be gone after a few hours of sleep.</p>
<p>
  <em>                When TK started doing drugs, he was so depressed that he didn’t mind much anymore. He started cutting on his arms too and wore long sleeves constantly, even in the heat of summer. His mother was away too often to notice, and his dad was also barely ever around. Except to help train him for the fire academy. He did look at him strangely sometimes, even asked how he could be wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer, but never anything further.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>                Later, after he’d overdosed, Owen often felt guilty about not noticing anything was wrong. He overcompensated for a long time. It didn’t matter how many times TK told him it wasn’t his fault, he still felt bad about it. TK could only imagine how it would be if his dad ever learned about the cutting. He’d give himself so much grief for not being there for him more back then. But it was all good. TK didn’t hold a grudge about it. He understood how important this job was, how all-consuming it could be, how you couldn’t stop chasing that high it gave you.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>                Self-harm was still another form of addiction, however, and it always stayed right there in the back of his mind. As he struggled to get clean of drugs, it was hard to stop himself from hurting himself and he went back to his old habits of cutting. Though he kept to his thighs this time, because you couldn’t avoid ever wearing t-shirts around a firehouse. And his dad was already worried, checking up on him regularly. TK didn’t want to take any chances. He didn’t want to show him just how messed up he was, just how broken and damaged he felt, just how weak he really was.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>                 Sometimes, he wished Owen knew, only so he would have someone to talk about it to, someone to help him through the urges when they came. But he didn’t want to see the pained look in his dad’s eyes if he found out.</em>
</p>
<p>                Now, TK loved short sleeves more than ever. Sure, hoodies were warm and cozy and he loved them. But short-sleeve shirts felt like more than just a piece of clothing. No matter how much time had passed, how many years had gone by, he still loved seeing his arms out in the open with no trace left that anything had ever happened. The scars were so faded you could barely see them. It felt like he was exhibiting the fact he was doing well, the fact he had stayed clean of cutting for so long. And that feeling was there even though no one around him knew.</p>
<p>                The transition of moving to Austin, right after his overdose, had been difficult. He’d left all his friends behind, his whole firehouse family, everyone. Sometimes, he wished he had someone other than his dad that he could talk to about things. He really liked the crew they’d assembled at the 126, but it was still too soon, they weren’t close enough yet. He’d barely just told them about being an addict and still wasn’t sure what they thought of that. They were family, but he wasn’t sure they were quite at the ‘confide every piece of your soul’ stage. Besides, they worked together, what TK needed was someone outside of the firehouse.</p>
<p>                His relationship with Carlos was still recent and TK felt awkward about how many of his issues the man knew about. Deep personal things one wouldn’t necessarily want to share this early in a relationship, and yet Carlos was still here. He wasn’t going anywhere. But TK still didn’t know that much about him.</p>
<p>                “Hey, TK, what are you doing? Come back to bed.”</p>
<p>                A sleepy Carlos had wandered into the kitchen, likely confused to have woken up in the middle of the night, alone in his boyfriend’s bed. And finding him sitting down in the kitchen, rubbing his thigh, next to the open freezer didn’t explain anything.</p>
<p>                “We don’t have any ice, how can we not have ice?”</p>
<p>                TK knew he sounded a little frantic, even in a whisper, but he couldn’t help it. It was happening again. It wasn’t unusual for it to happen more than once in a short amount of time. The urges often came in waves. Several bouts of it in the same week, then nothing for a while.  He couldn’t sleep, overwhelmed by thoughts of self-harm. It felt like there were too many emotions inside him just wanting to be let out. It was consuming him, he couldn’t make sense of it and he had no idea how to help himself settle down. How could they not have ice? What kind of house doesn’t always have ice?</p>
<p>                “TK, what’s going on? Why do you need ice? It’s one in the morning.”</p>
<p>                “I...” TK looked up, only now noticing how tired his boyfriend looked. He felt bad that he’d abandoned him in his bed. It made his frustration evaporate in an instant. He closed the freezer and stood. He wrapped his arms around Carlos’s shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry. I have this urge and I can’t make it stop and ice usually helps, but there’s no ice.”</p>
<p>                Carlos hugged him back, though he slowly made them walk back toward the bedroom. Slowly because face to face was not an ideal position to walk in.</p>
<p>                “You have the urge to do what?”</p>
<p>                “You know...” TK looked down and rubbed his thigh again.</p>
<p>                “Oh.”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, so... Don’t worry though, I haven’t done that in years, but it’s like any addiction, the urge comes back every once in a while.”</p>
<p>                “Did something happen to make you want to...? Did I do something?”</p>
<p>                “No, of course not, it’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s fault. Mine for ever doing that in the first place I guess. I just had a long day at work, sometimes that’s all it takes.”</p>
<p>                They’d made it to the bedroom and Carlos closed the door behind them, carefully so the noise wouldn’t wake Owen up.</p>
<p>                “Is there anything I can do to help?”</p>
<p>                “You already are. Just being here, talking to me, it gives me something else to focus on. I already feel like I’m calming down a little.”</p>
<p>                “Alright then, let’s go back to bed and keep talking, as long as you need.”</p>
<p>                “Thank you.”</p>
<p>                They lied back down. Carlos held him tightly in his arms and they talked. They talked about everything and anything. Carlos told him about his parents and his sisters. They told each other about their childhood. They shared stories about work. They talked until TK felt better and started dozing off. Seemed like TK had found exactly the person he needed, the one he wanted, the one he was growing to love more and more each day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                The past week had been rough at work. There had been many tough calls and not a lot of time to sleep. Everyone was tired and more irritable than usual. They all got on each other’s nerves, and there had been a few arguments. Judd and TK almost came to fists again just last shift. Then, outside of work, Owen had spent most of his time with Zoe, and Carlos worked. Everyone else was busy somehow. TK had felt pretty lonely and he had no one to talk to again. He’d also made a few mistakes at work, which certainly didn’t help his mood. All in all, he felt like shit.</p><p>                He stood in the bathroom, wearing nothing more than a towel around his waist, his hair still wet from the shower. He stared at himself in the mirror, unhappy. His entire appearance felt wrong to him, like it didn’t connect that he could feel this much pain inside and still look perfect on the outside. It felt wrong and it bothered him. He knew it was an unhealthy way to think, that he was spiraling down a dangerous path, but he couldn’t get that feeling out of his head. It was driving him crazy. He decided he needed to stop staring at his reflection and walked back to his room.</p><p>                “I look too pretty.” He complained.</p><p>                “I know, it’s really unfair. Makes it real hard to stop being near you, and I have things to do besides you. Sometimes I wish I could stay home from work and stare at your beautiful face all day.”</p><p>                TK loved the sight of Carlos in his bed in the morning, with his hair all ruffled and messy. It felt good to have him here, to get to spend the night together. They finally had a day off in common, and as Carlos surprisingly got off work later than TK, he’d come to join him at the house.</p><p>                “That’s not what I meant. It’s too perfect. There’s not a scratch on me or anything. Not even from work. I just look good. It’s sickening.”</p><p>                “I don’t follow.”</p><p>                “Don’t you ever feel like somehow there should be an indication on the outside for how you feel inside? Like eventually when a house is rotting and decaying, it starts to be visible on the outside.”</p><p>                TK sat down on the side of the bed, his back to Carlos. He stared down at the floor, slightly worried about how his boyfriend would react to what he’d just admitted.</p><p>                “TK... You’re not... Do you feel like you’re rotting on the inside?”</p><p>                Carlos sat up. His eyes were fixed on TK. He wished he had the words that would magically make him feel better, but he knew they didn’t exist. He knew even TK didn’t know what he needed to hear. There was nothing to do in that kind of situation other than just be there.</p><p>                “Kinda? I don’t know, maybe I just had a bad week and I’m tired and I’m struggling and I keep thinking about how good it would feel to just numb all of that. I don’t feel good right now, Carlos, and I don’t know how to make it better.”</p><p>                His voice cracked. He turned back to look at Carlos who reached out to grab his hand.</p><p>                “TK, I’m so sorry you feel like this, but you know I love you, right? I’m there for you, whatever you need. I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>                “You what?”</p><p>                “I’m there for you.”</p><p>                “No, the other thing.”</p><p>                “I love you?”</p><p>                “You’ve never said that before.”</p><p>                “I guess, but that’s how I feel.”</p><p>                “Really? You love me? Despite everything, how messed up and broken I am? You still love me?”</p><p>                “Of course I do, you’re an amazing man. And you are the strongest person I’ve ever met. I am in awe of all that you’ve overcome, of how kind you are. I love you, TK Strand, and I will keep telling you until you believe me.”</p><p>                “I love you too, Carlos.”</p><p>                TK’s smile was irresistibly soft and Carlos pulled him closer so he could lock their lips together.</p><p>                “Careful, Carlos, that towel isn’t holding on that strongly.”</p><p>                “Yeah, it would be a shame if you came here and the towel stayed over there.”</p><p>                “Carlos, the door isn’t really closed.”</p><p>                As if on cue, a knock on the door interrupted them. Owen opened the door TK had left ajar. He sighed, though a smile quickly spread on his face at the sight of his son seemingly happy with someone he felt maybe a little too comfortable with.</p><p>                “Son, if you’re gonna do naked stuff with your boyfriend, you might want to close the door first.”</p><p>                “Hey, it’s not my fault, I told him.”</p><p>                “I’m sorry, Mr Strand, your son is just too pretty. He said so himself.”</p><p>                “Very funny.” TK said. “What did you want, dad?”</p><p>                “Zoe and I made breakfast, if you wanted to join us. Unless you prefer finishing whatever it is you were doing before I walked in.”</p><p>                “No, we’ll be there in a minute.”</p><p>                “Take your time. Maybe put some clothes on.”</p><p>                A strange expression filled Owen’s face as he seemed to notice something, but he said nothing and left them to get ready.</p><p> </p><p>                <em>His eyelids felt heavy as he slowly forced himself to open his eyes. He couldn’t stop a moan from escaping his lips from how hard waking up felt. He barely remembered what happened. He was at a party with old friends from high school. He was having fun, maybe too much fun. And then nothing. He just woke up here.</em></p><p>
  <em>                His father sat on a chair next to his bed. He wore a somber look on his face. TK could detect a mix of anger, worry, guilt and sadness. He was obviously disappointed and seeing that hurt TK more than the burn in his throat, or the pulsing headache. What he wouldn’t give for some oxy right now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “Dad, I’m so sorry...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “Do you have any idea what it feels like to get a call in the middle of the night from a kid you’ve never heard of before telling you your son overdosed? Do you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                So it seemed the anger had won the battle for the speech.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “They called you directly?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “They called 911 first apparently, but thought, since I’m a firefighter, I might want to be informed right away.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “I’m really sorry.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “I don’t want you to be sorry, TK, I want you to talk to me. You’re taking drugs? Why didn’t you say anything? You know I’d be there for you. You can always talk to me if you’re struggling.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “It’s not a big deal, dad, and you’re busy.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “Not a big deal? You almost died!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “I thought I had it under control.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                TK hated how weak his voice sounded, he hated the pain in his father’s, he hated everything about this situation. The fact he had done this to himself, the fact he hurt his dad, the fact his mom wasn’t here, the fact he still craved the pills. He wondered how it’d gotten this far, where he’d gone wrong. He felt like crying, but somehow he couldn’t. He wanted to, needed to even, but it wouldn’t come out, it stayed inside, feeling like a lump in his throat. There was too much, it had to come out, but it didn’t.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “Clearly you didn’t, but that stops now. I don’t ever want to have to see you like this again, you hear me? You scared me, TK. I thought I was about to lose you.” His eyes were filled with tears he seemed to be trying to stop. “I’ll be around more from now on. Whatever you need, I’m here. I love you, son. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                “I love you too, dad. And I promise, this will never happen again.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>                TK felt bad. He felt guilty and inadequate and frustrated. Because all in all, he had a pretty good life. And yet, he seemed unable to just be happy like everyone else. Dark thoughts kept creeping back into his mind without any effort of his own, without anything bad even happening. He hated the way his brain worked, like he constantly had to fight it.</p><p>                He almost felt relieved when Carlos was called back to work that night. He still felt off and having someone there, looking at him, seeing how perfect and unharmed he looked seemed to make it worse. It was all in his head of course. Carlos wasn’t making anything worse. He was making it all better and TK realised that as soon as he left. The urges were too strong and he couldn’t handle it alone. His desire for his appearance to match the way he felt inside was overwhelming, and the solution too easy.</p><p>                He found himself at the bar before he even realised what he was doing. It had gotten too hard to resist, and he was tired of constantly having to do it. So he let go. He knew he’d feel ashamed later, he knew he would regret it, but still he let go. It was so easy to provoke a man into starting a fight, too easy. A few well chosen words, a suggestive look and that was it. It was dangerous, but part of him didn’t care. He wanted to feel pain, he wanted to look himself in the mirror in the morning and not be smacked in the face by the lie that his perfect face told. The illusion beauty gave that everything was good. He needed to see cuts and bruises. That way everyone could see the pain he felt and not be fooled by his unscathed appearance.</p><p>                While last time had been awkward and embarrassing by the simple fact that Carlos had been the one to process him after he got arrested, this one managed to be worse. The fight spread across the bar, prompting the bartender to not only call the cops, but also paramedics to tend to multiple injuries. Which is how TK ended up sitting on a bar stool, with his hands handcuffed and Michelle standing in front of him, examining the state he was in.</p><p>                “Wow, that guy really did a number on you, didn’t he?”</p><p>                “That bad?” TK couldn’t look her in the eyes. He stared down at his hands, sad and ashamed. “You think I’ll be okay to make next shift?”</p><p>                “That broken nose might bother you a bit, and I don’t like the feel of that rib, but you should be good. In pain mostly.”</p><p>                “I can deal with pain.”</p><p>                “What are you even doing here? This isn’t our usual place. And you’re alone? How much did you have to drink?”</p><p>                “I’m sober, Michelle.”</p><p>                “Then why...?”</p><p>                “Can we please not talk about this? I’m tired and I still have a ride to the police station waiting for me. I can already imagine what Carlos will think when he sees me there. He’ll be so disappointed.”</p><p>                “They didn’t tell you? Since there are so many of you and no one is pressing charges, the cops decided to conduct alcohol tests here and only bring back those to whom they can give a drunk and disorderly. Saves paperwork that way.”</p><p>                “Gives me some time to think about how I’ll explain this to Carlos.”</p><p>                “You should think about what you’ll tell your dad first.”</p><p>                “Why? He doesn’t have to know. Please, you have to keep this a secret.”</p><p>                “I’m sorry, you were really banged up. It looked like you needed someone here with you, and a ride home wouldn’t be a bad idea either. So I called him.”</p><p>                “I’m not sure I like you being such close friends with both my dad and my boyfriend anymore.”</p><p>                “I’m just looking out for the person they love.”</p><p>                “I know, it’s annoying. Couldn’t they love me a little less?”</p><p>                “I tried to tell Carlos you were trouble, but unfortunately his heart wouldn’t listen.”</p><p>                “Thank you for trying, I guess.”</p><p>                Michelle gave him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder and left him to check on other people. TK wished this could go faster. He was starting to feel tired and his nose was pulsing painfully. He wanted to get those handcuffs off his wrists and go home. But the cops were taking their time processing everyone, not letting anyone go until they were done. They tested TK’s alcohol level twice, because they couldn’t believe someone would be dumb enough to get into a bar fight sober. He also got the feeling they wanted to taunt him a bit, just for fun. Overall, it wasn’t that bad, just a long and boring wait, until his dad finally showed up.</p><p>                “TK, are you okay? What happened?”</p><p>                “I’m fine, dad.”</p><p>                “What happened? What are you doing in a place like this?”</p><p>                “I got into a fight with two other guys and it degenerated.”</p><p>                “I can tell you’re trying to avoid telling me everything. Look at me, son.”</p><p>                TK finally looked up, meeting his father’s gaze. He never meant to worry him. He felt so selfish for doing reckless things like that, for not being strong enough to resist. He wanted to be happy so badly and he couldn’t understand why he wasn’t.</p><p>                “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”</p><p>                “What?”</p><p>                “TK, I saw the scars on your thigh this morning. You came here for a fight tonight, right? All those times I’ve seen you come back all beaten up, it was on purpose, wasn’t it? You’ve been going to bars and provoking people into fighting you.”</p><p>                “Dad... I didn’t... I wasn’t doing that anymore. I stopped. And then we came here, after Alex left me and the overdose and everything and I just... I felt numb. And then I had that terrible date with Carlos, and somehow I ended up here. That time they actually brought me to the station where Carlos processed me.”</p><p>                “Carlos processed your arrest? I imagine he gave you some shit about it too.”</p><p>                “Dad, come on, that’s not funny. But yes he did. Anyway, that and tonight are the only times I’ve done this in a long while. I promise.”</p><p>                “And the scars I saw?”</p><p>                Tears filled TK’s eyes. He never wanted his dad to find out, but he couldn’t avoid that conversation now. He looked down, unsure where to start, unsure how to reveal the mess he made of himself to someone who cared so deeply about him. He felt arms wrap around his shoulders. Owen pulled him close against his chest and brushed his hand through his hair. TK let himself cry into his dad’s shirt and calm washed over him. He felt safe there.</p><p>                “It’s okay, son, take your time.”</p><p>                “I’m sorry, I keep letting you down.”</p><p>                “You can’t let me down as long as you keep trying.”</p><p>                “It started in high school, I cut for a while, but I stopped a long time ago. I still get the urge to do it, but I can handle it.” TK sniffled, wiped his tears and took a breath. He pulled away from his dad so he could look him in the eyes. “Carlos found out a while ago, when I got my leg hurt at that farm, remember? He’s been great, very supportive.”</p><p>                “Yeah, you got yourself a great man there.” Owen put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, TK, you know that, right? And you can come to me for anything, whatever you need.”</p><p>                “I know, dad. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”</p><p>                One of the cops finally came to take the handcuffs off TK’s wrists and gave him the ok to leave. Owen made sure Michelle thought he was fine and drove him home. There was a feeling of relief that came with everything being out there in the open. TK never thought it would feel so freeing for his dad to know, to not have to hide anything from him anymore. He was aware of how lucky he was to have such a supportive and understanding parent, one he could really trust wouldn’t judge him for his mistakes, but do what was necessary to help him stay afloat.</p><p>                The two of them settled on the couch to watch a movie and talk as they waited for Carlos to come back from work. TK was still down, still felt ashamed, but he was glad he had people he could rely on in his darkest moments. Even if he sometimes was too afraid to be a burden to ask for their help. He would have to get better at it. Until then, he knew they loved and cared for him and that was all he could ever wish for.</p>
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